


Away To Me

by Todesengel



Series: Mag7 Bingo [4]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra collects on a debt</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away To Me

Vin's whistling when he leaves the saloon. Been a damn good day so far as he's concerned, what with helping out ol' Nettie Wells and taking down Guy Royal a notch or two. Fact that he's got a few more dollars in his pocket than he started the night with, and the low, slow burn of some proper whiskey warming his belly – well, that just makes an already pleasant night down right beautiful in his mind.

Nice night, pocket full of cash…only one thing that he needs, really, to make him a truly happy man, and when he sees the familiar silhouette of Ezra sitting with his feet up on the rail outside the jail, he figures his beautiful night is about to become perfect.

"Ezra," he says, tipping his hat.

"Mister Tanner." Ezra don't look up at him, not directly, but Vin can see just the slightest hint of his pale eyes peering slyly up at him through his long lashes.

"Nice night," Vin says as he leans up against the rail, making himself comfortable on the edge of Ezra's personal space.

"For some." Ezra shuffles the cards in his hands, makes them twist and dance to his will.

"Ain't it Buck's night to be sheriff?"

"It is indeed. But he insisted that he had more pressing matters to attend to and I drew the short straw, as it were." Ezra makes the cards disappear with a flick of his wrist, and at last – at last – he looks up into Vin's eyes. His expression is carefully blank, but Vin's getting better at learning the knack of reading him. Reading people ain't too different from reading tracks, after all. Just gotta learn the signs.

Ezra's not half as subtle as he likes to think he is. And he ain't half as annoyed at being on jail duty as he'd like the world to think.

"Pressing matters, huh? Think Miss Caroline's caught on to the fact that he's stepping out with Miss Doris?"

"I would not know. I was, in fact, waiting for you." Ezra stands up and makes a show of brushing off his sleeves, checking his watch. The whiskey warmth in Vin's belly curls and turns into something warmer, smokier, hotter. Warms him right on down to his balls. "I believe we have a rather important matter to discuss."

"Yeah? What'd that be?"

"I believe you owe me some money, Vin."

"Money?" And for a moment, all the warm, heady feelings of fucking run clean out of his head and he can only gape at Ezra. "What money?"

"Why the interest on my loan to Ms. Wells, of course."

"Aw hell," Vin says, utterly annoyed now. "You still on about that? I already told you I ain't got thirty dollars."

"Oh, I believe you," Ezra says, a banked glow in his eyes and that devil's smirk on his lips. "But I never lend money for free." He grins, gold tooth shining in the glow of the night fires. "When I lend money at all, that is."

"That a fact." And Vin's starting to get the warm curl in his belly back. He leans in, gets right into Ezra's personal space. "Reckon we can come to some kind of an agreement?"

Ezra flicks his eyes towards the jail, and its beds, and its stout, wood walls, and he licks his lips slow and deliberate like. "I believe we can."

Vin leans back, slouches down a little lower so it looks almost natural when he spreads his legs, just a bit – just enough to tighten his pants against the growing hardness of his cock. Make it blatant what he's offering here. "Reckon we should discuss the details of our agreement, then."

Ezra turns and opens the door to the jail. He waves Vin in with a flourish and says, "I make it a rule to never discuss business in public. After you, sir."

"Not in public, huh?" Vin smirks and saunters into the jail – empty, like it almost always is nowadays. "Didn't figure you for the private type, Ezra."

"Oh there's a time and a place for everything, Vin." Ezra sets his hat down on the desk and takes off his jacket, folding it just so before draping it over the back of a chair. He pauses and looks over at Vin, still fully dressed, thumbs hooked into his belt. "A time and a place for everything, I said. And in this time and place, clothes are most certainly not required."

"Just giving you a head start at undressing, is all," Vin says, not willing to admit how much he loves to watch Ezra strip away the symbols of civilization. And oh how he does. The ritual of it all, the slow reveal of Ezra's pale flesh – skin pink and soft as old washed cotton.

"Well, I refuse to be the only man in his drawers here," Ezra says. Vin smirks and skims his hat off, shrugs out of his buffalo hide jacket. He's reaching for his holster tie when Ezra stops him.

"Thought you wanted me nekkid."

"Oh I do, Mister Tanner. I do," Ezra says, a wicked gleam in his eye, "but that particular article appears to be rather tightly buckled. I doubt you'd be able to get it off all by yourself and in your particular condition."

"Ezra—" Vin begins, but Ezra's already on his knees – kneeling on Vin's jacket, no less – and undoing Vin's holster tie. It makes Vin a little nervous having a man that close to his dick and his gun at the same time, so he reaches down to undo the belt, but Ezra's already doing it for him. Belt and gun and the buttons on his trousers and drawers and then Ezra just reaches down into his pants and grabs his cock.

"Oh fuck," Vin breathes, because Ezra's playing his cock like he plays his cards, hitting all the right spots. And, lord, he's so hard right now that it don't feel like he's got enough skin down there to cover it all, but then Ezra slides his hand slowly up and down his shaft and pulls his cock out and, lord, lord, there ain't no words, ain't no words at all for the way it feels when Ezra puts his mouth on him. He bangs his fist on the wall behind him, just to distract himself from what's going on, just to keep himself from going off too soon. "Jesus, Ezra."

"Jesus," Ezra says, pulling back and looking up with those devil eyes and that devil smile, "is not welcome to this particular congregation."

Vin huffs a laugh and reaches down to touch Ezra's hair, muss it in the way he knows Ezra hates, and the action adds the smell of beeswax to the already heady aromas of lust. He holds on tight as Ezra teases the tip of his cock – can't do much more than that, really, 'cept keep himself from thrusting too hard. He learned the last time Ezra did this that it's Ezra's way or Vin's own hand, and Ezra's way is for Ezra to be in control. Always in control.

Still, he can't help his hips from jerking a little, can't help the whimper that escapes as Ezra takes him deep into his throat and hums -- _hums!_ \-- 'cause he ain't made of steel. Man can only take so much 'fore his instincts take over, and Ezra just keeps pushing him to that line. Pushing him, and pushing him, and Vin just has to push back.

Damn Ezra and his rules, anyway, and Vin thrusts, hard. Catches Ezra by surprise, too, which ain't a good thing, 'cause Ezra's teeth scrape the already too-sensitive flesh of his cock and it's too much. It's just too damn much and he's grunting out his orgasm almost before he knows he's having it.

Ezra coughs and spits out Vin's seed – onto Vin's jacket, of course, and Vin ain't sure whether that were intentional or not.

"Perhaps some warning next time," is all Ezra says, though, and he's still got that look in his eyes, the one that makes the heat curl and twist and writhe in Vin's belly, in his loins.

Not that Vin'll ever tell Ezra that, 'course. No need to give the man any sort of advantage. Specially not when just the way Ezra looks right now – hair all mussed, cheeks red, lips swollen and damp, and the rest of him still all prim and proper in his vest and tie and fancy linen shirt – is making Vin's cock twitch in need.

"Sorry," Vin says. "Reckon I owe you for that."

"That and so much more, Mister Tanner. There's still the thirty dollars to consider."

"You mean we ain't square on that?" Vin says, just to watch Ezra bristle. "What about –"

"Please. You surely don't think I'm going to give up thirty dollars just to ruin the knees of my pants."

"You were kneeling on my jacket, Ezra."

"My point exactly." Ezra stands and starts to circle Vin, pushing him back with just the look in his eyes and the pressure of his presence. Vin's skin is damn near crackling with his awareness of Ezra; but that ain't so strange, not right now, not when he's got Ezra's spit drying on his cock and the smell of him heavy in the air. Makes Vin shiver, to have all that pressure on him – shiver, but he ain't afraid. He knows how to work pressure too, and if he wanted to he could stop this right now. Push back, change the dynamic 'tween them.

He don't want to, though.

"Well since my head's worth five hundred, I reckon my cock's gotta be worth at least thirty," Vin says, 'cause even though he'll let himself be pushed he won't make it easy on Ezra.

Ezra don't need any more easy things.

"Five, perhaps," Ezra says, and he's got Vin's suspenders down now, got Vin's pants bunching up at the tops of his boots and his shirt half unbuttoned. He backs them both into the cell until the bed's knocking against the back of Vin's knees. "When it's been washed."

"I wash," Vin protests, but not too hard. "Bathed in the crick just the other day."

"Yes, but perhaps you should consider doing so on a more regular basis."

"Ain't healthy, all that bathing."

"Bathing, my dear Mister Tanner, is a hallmark of a civilized man."

"That a hallmark too?" Vin asks, undoing Ezra's derringer rig. "Reckon the civilized man's got a hair trigger, then." And he grinds a thigh against Ezra's crotch as he speaks, against the straining hardness he finds there. Ezra pushes back, then backs off, out of Vin's reach, and he smoothes down the front of his rumpled vest.

"Ezra? What happened to the being nekkid portion of the evening?"

"I've decided that it's merely you who need be unclothed," Ezra says. He's got his britches open and his cock out. It's damn near obscene the way it sticks straight out of his fancy pants, and Vin licks his lips in anticipation. He reaches for it, but Ezra bats his hands away and pushes him – physically this time, but lightly, just a hand on his chest – until he's down on the bed, spread open, just waiting for Ezra.

"Don't hardly think that's fair."

"It's my thirty dollars," Ezra says.

"Thirty dollars ain't gonna let you treat me like a whore."

"Oh I would never pay a whore thirty dollars." Ezra kneels on the bed, trapping Vin's thighs with his own. He strokes himself, slowly, teasingly. "I do hope you realize what a sacrifice I'm making here."

"Well," Vin says, "you could always just let it go."

Ezra leans down until Vin can feel the slight dampness of his breath and smell the licorice sweets he chews to keep it fresh. "Do I ever let anything go?"

"Reckon you don't," he says, and then Ezra's sliding up against him, his cock slipping in between Vin's thighs – still slightly slick from the sweat of the day. The rub of Ezra's silk vest against his already spent cock is painfully pleasurable, and he arches into the motion, grunting and panting.

Ezra thrusts faster, eyes hooded, tongue just barely out of his mouth. He's quiet, and it really is the only time he's ever quiet. He ain't got words for this and Vin understands that, understands that it's all about the burn of skin on skin, the heat, the warmth, the body.

Vin's cock thickens between them, and he reaches a hand down to grasp it, stroke it in time with Ezra's thrusts. He reckons he should say something to Ezra – man's seed can't be good on silk, after all – but doesn't. Ain't his fault Ezra's still all clothed.

Vin watches Ezra face – open and honest and utterly readable – and he can tell when Ezra's close, when he's right there, right on the edge. Vin reaches up and pulls Ezra's head down, kisses him dirty and mean, and comes right there on Ezra's vest. He moans into Ezra's mouth, and his thighs tighten and tremble and that's it. That's what pushes Ezra over the edge and Vin can feel the sticky scald of Ezra's seed splashing on the inside of his thighs, against his balls, against the mattress below them.

It takes Ezra a moment to collect himself and roll off of Vin and onto his own feet. He stares down at the off-white mess on his vest and then glares at Vin. "Mister Tanner."

"Hey, you're the one who didn't want to get nekkid."

"You, sir, are a savage."

"Best kind of thing to be." Vin stretches out and grabs Ezra's handkerchief. He uses it to clean the mess off of his legs then hands it back. "So we settled now?"

"In part," Ezra says. "But I will be collecting on the rest."

**Author's Note:**

> "Away to me" is a term used in sheepherding to direct the dog to run counter clockwise around the flock. Since the 'pressure' expressed in this fic -- the physical manipulation of a person through physical presence alone -- was entirely inspired by thoughts on sheep dogs (don't ask me why I had those thoughts) I figured it was an appropriate choice.


End file.
